Jomas
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Woody aromatic comfort scent
It's not unprecedented, it doesn't break any new ground, but it's extremely soothing and comforting. I've encountered the same type of sandalwood in Costume National (Homme), and the aromatic part is similar to 1899 Hemingway (HdP). It is, however, significantly fresher and less sweet than either of the two above mentioned, and the lack of vanilla and cinnamon is much appreciated.
A rather chameleonic fragrance. At times, unrelated to the top-heart-base evolution, it seems to me that the creamy sandalwood, sharpened somewhat by cedar, kills every other accord, other times the aromatic notes take hold and all I can smell is juniper and balsam fir. It even happens that, at the same time, on one wrist I feel conifers and sandalwood on the other.
Unisex from head to toe. I can't think of a more gender neutral note than sandalwood. I wish it was more present though, tantric sex is said to last a tad longer.
A rather chameleonic fragrance. At times, unrelated to the top-heart-base evolution, it seems to me that the creamy sandalwood, sharpened somewhat by cedar, kills every other accord, other times the aromatic notes take hold and all I can smell is juniper and balsam fir. It even happens that, at the same time, on one wrist I feel conifers and sandalwood on the other.
Unisex from head to toe. I can't think of a more gender neutral note than sandalwood. I wish it was more present though, tantric sex is said to last a tad longer.
Rose with rose and even more rose
My nose is playing tricks on me again. All the reviews are talking about rose with rose and even more rose, whereas all I smelled after applying was beeswax, honey, beehive. If someone had put a gun to my head in the first few minutes and forced me to vote on the spot one similar fragrance, I would have gone straight to Slowdive - Hiram Green.
I was starting to get excited, but no. Everyone was right, and my nose is delulu. The olfactory illusion (I guess it's the raspberry, I've mistaken it for honey before) disappears, and what is left behind is, in line with the predictions, a rose with rose and even more rose. Jammy, deep and very Bulgarian. Although it has nothing to do with either of the two, it strikes me more as a rose for POAL aficionados than for Delina enthusiasts.
A remarkable fragrance, I'd say, but I, for one, can't handle that much rose. As it blooms, I fade. :)) Eventually, after it loses some of its power and I dare to safely approach my wrist again, it surprisingly leads me back to Hiram Green, only this time to Lustre's drydown. Good longevity, even too good projection.
I was starting to get excited, but no. Everyone was right, and my nose is delulu. The olfactory illusion (I guess it's the raspberry, I've mistaken it for honey before) disappears, and what is left behind is, in line with the predictions, a rose with rose and even more rose. Jammy, deep and very Bulgarian. Although it has nothing to do with either of the two, it strikes me more as a rose for POAL aficionados than for Delina enthusiasts.
A remarkable fragrance, I'd say, but I, for one, can't handle that much rose. As it blooms, I fade. :)) Eventually, after it loses some of its power and I dare to safely approach my wrist again, it surprisingly leads me back to Hiram Green, only this time to Lustre's drydown. Good longevity, even too good projection.
Not exactly Snow White...
For a moment, just one brief moment, I thought the fragrance would stay in the rather clean and safe territory of Honour (Amouage). Oh boy, was I wrong! Put into the fairy tale, Honour would be Snow White and Melodie de L'Amour the wicked stepmother, yet still beautiful enough to contend for the title "the fairest of them all". They both wear a wreath of white flowers, but while Snow White, also known as Honour, shakes her hair, Melodie flutters her indoles.
The funny thing is that, as indolic and animalic and shameless as Melodie de L'Amour is, I don't completely dislike it. And, for that, I have none other than Miguel Matos to thank, who, with his Fado Jasmim, has hardened me. :))
Because, you know, if we kick Honour out of the story and insert Fado Jasmim in its place, our Melodie de L'Amour will suddenly become the new Snow White. :)))
The funny thing is that, as indolic and animalic and shameless as Melodie de L'Amour is, I don't completely dislike it. And, for that, I have none other than Miguel Matos to thank, who, with his Fado Jasmim, has hardened me. :))
Because, you know, if we kick Honour out of the story and insert Fado Jasmim in its place, our Melodie de L'Amour will suddenly become the new Snow White. :)))
Stick with the original!
I really, really liked the original Wulong Cha, even though I would have found the scent more appropriate in a luxurious spa than on skin. I don't dislike this X version either, but I couldn't use the words "I like it a lot" with a clear conscience.
The two Wulong-Cha's don't seem that similar to me. In Wulong I, the cubeba litsea covers everything from my perspective, sending the tea somewhere in the back. By contrast, in Wulong II, the green tea note is obvious even to me, and the litsea is barely noticeable, dominated by bergamot at the top of the pyramid. The main battle is between the green tea and the white magnolia (that easily recognizable magnolia accord once you've repeatedly smelled perfumes that list the note, but which has not the slightest connection to the real magnolia). I don't know if in this case it's the happiest of combinations, it seems to me that the tea somehow turns the magnolia sour and that's not exactly ideal.
At first glance, it vaguely reminds me of two other perfumes, and the two are neither the original Wulong nor Green Tea, but Magnolia en Fleurs (Avon) and Amyris Femme (MFK). Somewhat ironically, my favorite of the three is the outsider Magnolia en Fleurs.
Good performance.
The two Wulong-Cha's don't seem that similar to me. In Wulong I, the cubeba litsea covers everything from my perspective, sending the tea somewhere in the back. By contrast, in Wulong II, the green tea note is obvious even to me, and the litsea is barely noticeable, dominated by bergamot at the top of the pyramid. The main battle is between the green tea and the white magnolia (that easily recognizable magnolia accord once you've repeatedly smelled perfumes that list the note, but which has not the slightest connection to the real magnolia). I don't know if in this case it's the happiest of combinations, it seems to me that the tea somehow turns the magnolia sour and that's not exactly ideal.
At first glance, it vaguely reminds me of two other perfumes, and the two are neither the original Wulong nor Green Tea, but Magnolia en Fleurs (Avon) and Amyris Femme (MFK). Somewhat ironically, my favorite of the three is the outsider Magnolia en Fleurs.
Good performance.
Love the prologue, not so much the finale
The overture to the black rhapsody is marvelous. Unsweetened pot of coffee, poured by delicate hands on a precious wooden table, inlaid in mudejar style. It feels like there's a hint of oud in there, but I couldn't swear to it. It resembles Aoud Cafe (Mancera) in concept to me, but it's smoother and lacks the whiff of root vegetables present in Mancera.
At this point I start praying to the gods that the scent is linear, the most linear of them all. Alas, it isn't. It has the merit that that splendid opening lasts long enough, maybe half an hour, after which the juice begins to sweeten, and the quartet of notes that, even in combinations of two (lavender with tonka, tobacco with vanilla) tend to give me a hard time, takes over.
The other fragrance that comes to mind with all these four stated notes is Naxos (Xerjoff), which I loathe with a passion, honestly. La Rhapsodie Noir lacks the excessive and aggressive sweetness of Naxos, it's smoother, better homogenized and more subdued.
If I manage to get over the disappointment generated by the fact that, after the perfect opening, it evolves into a direction not exactly to my taste, I have to admit that I don't dislike the drydown either. I'm surprised it doesn't enjoy greater popularity, given that a lot of other tobacco-vanilla-drunkards of much poorer quality (just to name Jazz Club (Margiela)), are worldwide hits.
Average to good performances, it doesn't make it to the wish list, although the thought did cross my mind for a moment. But Aoud Cafe, which I had long forgotten about and which La Rhapsodie Noire brought back to my mind, might enter my wish list. As raw and unfinished as it is, it's evolved much more to my liking and, while the sample lasted, has delighted me head to tail with every wear.
At this point I start praying to the gods that the scent is linear, the most linear of them all. Alas, it isn't. It has the merit that that splendid opening lasts long enough, maybe half an hour, after which the juice begins to sweeten, and the quartet of notes that, even in combinations of two (lavender with tonka, tobacco with vanilla) tend to give me a hard time, takes over.
The other fragrance that comes to mind with all these four stated notes is Naxos (Xerjoff), which I loathe with a passion, honestly. La Rhapsodie Noir lacks the excessive and aggressive sweetness of Naxos, it's smoother, better homogenized and more subdued.
If I manage to get over the disappointment generated by the fact that, after the perfect opening, it evolves into a direction not exactly to my taste, I have to admit that I don't dislike the drydown either. I'm surprised it doesn't enjoy greater popularity, given that a lot of other tobacco-vanilla-drunkards of much poorer quality (just to name Jazz Club (Margiela)), are worldwide hits.
Average to good performances, it doesn't make it to the wish list, although the thought did cross my mind for a moment. But Aoud Cafe, which I had long forgotten about and which La Rhapsodie Noire brought back to my mind, might enter my wish list. As raw and unfinished as it is, it's evolved much more to my liking and, while the sample lasted, has delighted me head to tail with every wear.
